Whenever I'm gone from my home for over 24 hours, I take my laptop with me.
And I'll be really honest here: I'm an addict.
Yes. Completely. A plugged-in, techo-nerd constantly looking up information, working or editing photos.
So when we went to the mountains over a week ago it should be no surprised that I packed up the laptop for the trip.
So why didn't you hear from me, you ask?
Because my computer died. Yes, it died. Not "died" but "died" as in a miserable and horrible death on day two into the trip. Died as in the motherboard is toast. Died as in Laura had no internet for DAYS and instead was in NATURE and Laura was very convinced she would DIE herself.
Of course, at the beginning of the trip we didn't think it was dead. We just thought it had another virus. "Don't touch it!" Aaron said, as though I would remotely test such a thing. "You have to wait 'till we get home!"
So I gave Aaron five minutes being home before I began to pester him. "You gonna open my computer? Hack your way in? Find the virus?"
"Christ, woman, let me take a shit first!"
A few hours later, he came to the basement to find me (basement computer is much like basement kitteh - you don't fuck with it unless absolutely necessary) and to break the news to me: "It's the motherboard. I'm not sure the hard drive will even be salvageable."
And to that, I had some lovely choice words to let him know that not salvaging the hard drive was not an option - Darwin's fifth birthday party photos are on that and not backed up because someone was too busy to back up my computer before our road trip.
I'm sure you can use your imagination on how that conversation went.
So for the last five days we've spent nearly every moment hacking an old, dead system and setting up a new system (which we cannot afford, anyone know of gluten-free ramen?) and recovering old data and testing (and continuing to test) out the new system.
So, yes. That's a big-ass explanation of whys I gots no pretty pictures today.
(Also? New computer shiny. Shiny.)